


Grapholagnia

by TheMockingJ3



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Amelie Chelmey (Mentioned), Forgive me Barton, M for mature, Other, Read at Your Own Risk, VERY mature stuff here, Writing crack while I dig myself out of the writer's block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 10:15:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingJ3/pseuds/TheMockingJ3
Summary: Definiton: An urge to look at sexually-explicit, obscene, scatological, lewd, vulgar, pornographic, or offensive pictures.





	Grapholagnia

Barton’s hands shook as he rummaged through the desk drawer. He must have looked like a crazed animal— a dog digging up a stash of meat or a rabbit making a nest… 

Noise, right outside the office. 

He perked up, his moustache twitching. If he was caught, it would mean the end for him. He would lose his police badge, his future in law enforcement and his friendship with Chelmey. All because of his uncontrollable urges. 

He’d tried to keep it hidden— honestly he had! He never let it interfere with his police work or put anyone at risk. 

Sometimes, when he wasn’t busy, he would just find an empty storage cupboard and… satisfy himself. 

But Chelmey had seen him the other day and confiscated his photos.

_“What the blazes do you think you’re doing, Barton? I better not catch you in here again, you hear?”_

Thankfully, whoever was outside had run off. It was probably Grosky…

Sighing, Barton resumed his search, turning the drawer inside out. He gasped when he found a photo. It was, in fact, a photo of Chelmey and Amelie on their wedding day. Chelmey was smiling a rare smile, but his eyes seemed to sear into the depths of Barton’s soul. _Don’t even think about it, Barton._

Barton sniffled. How could he let the inspector down like this? How could he tarnish the memory of his father?

He was too soft, weak-willed and greedy. Despite his family ties, no one had believed he would make it in the police force. No one except Chelmey. 

Now, he was throwing everything away to feed his addiction.

An ‘addiction’… Could he really call it that? There was nothing sinister about what he was doing, was there? 

His fingers brushed a plastic wallet in the drawer and he pulled it out. His _photos!_ Winners of the Great British Bake Off beamed at him: A buxom blonde with steaming hot buns, a petite redhead dipping strawberries in melted chocolate, a curvy brunette pouring cream on an apple tart…  

His mouth watered at the sight of them. He hopped into Chelmey’s chair and reclined back, holding the photos above him. 

The door slammed open. “Oi, Barton!” 

He dropped the photos as if they had caught fire. “INSPECTOR!” He fell out of the chair, stood ramrod straight and saluted. 

“What were you doing in my chair?” Chelmey hummed, moving behind the desk. 

Barton slid the photos under the desk with his feet. “J-just resting my legs, Sir!” Right now, his legs felt like they had turned to jelly. 

“Sitting down on the job, eh…?” Chelmey trailed off when he noticed the drawer was open. _“Looking_ for something?” 

He gulped. “A… a _pen!_ That’s all I needed!”

“There’s one right in front of you on the desk.”

“O-oh yes! Must’ve missed that!” 

“Blind as a bat, you are,” Chelmey muttered, handing him the pen. “Finish whatever you’re writing quickly. Layton needs my input on a case.” 

Barton deflated. “R-right away—“

“Hm? What’s this doing out?” 

Barton froze as Chelmey bent down. He picked up his wedding photo. 

“Sorry, Sir!” Barton squeaked. “So sorry—must’ve dropped that!”

The inspector frowned, but his face softened when he glanced at the photo again. “Just… be more careful. Now, hurry up. We’re leaving in five minutes.” He returned the wedding photo to the drawer and headed for the door.

Barton actually believed he was off the hook until Chelmey paused. “About your photos…”

“W-what about them?” 

“You can have them back now. They’re in that drawer.”

Barton blinked and repeated, “What?” 

“I showed them to Amelie. She liked the look of that apple tart… If there’s any left over, I’ll bring it in tomorrow.” 

“That would be _perfect!”_

Chelmey looked taken aback by his outburst. “Well… Don’t stand there yammering. We need to go soon.”

Finally, he left the room. Barton fell to his knees, gathering his photos together. His kissed the one with the apple tart.  

_Thank you, Amelie!_


End file.
